Unexpected
by Nienna100
Summary: Puck catches Jesse on the phone with Corcoran planning the destruction of New Directions, and uses this information as blackmail. Smutty blackmail. Jesse/Puck in a variety of sexual blackmail-y situations BDSM spanking etc
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Jesse and Puck are not mine. Little of this plot is either…**

**A/N1: This is for Claudia and Rowan and their penchants for weird sex acts apparently. **

"Look, I'm doing my best… Rachel's a nice person… I am!"

Puck cocked his head, listening to the half conversation. Someone was on the phone. Feeling like he should be wearing a dark suit and sun glasses inside to hide his identity – though as the only boy with a non tie-dyed short Mohawk it might be difficult. Maybe a wig… - he crept towards the home economics classroom and peered around the door. Jesse? What was the new kid doing in the otherwise empty classroom? Perched on one of the desks, Jesse had his head in one of his hands. The other held the phone.

"New Directions isn't competition! I don't need to do anything! Seriously!... Yes… Yes I'll talk to him… The Cheerleading Coach might be a help. She has it in for Schuester."

Say what? Puck raised an eyebrow. Was Jesse selling out the William McKinley Glee Club? Was this what Puck was witnessing?

"If I get the lead male vocal for their number at Regionals, then leave, they're screwed… Yes I understand… Alright. Don't text me again though; Rachel is somewhat suspicious… OK… Bye."

Jesse was staring down at the phone – no doubt hanging up and clearing his call history – but his head shot up when he heard the door click closed. "Puck… What?"

Refusing to look at the older boy, Puck made his way to the fridge. There was always food in the home economic room and he was hungry. "Heard your voice from the corridor. You really should shut that door." He tugged the door open and was presented with a collection of bowls of soup which had clearly been this day's project. That was boring.

"You were eavesdropping?" Jesse's voice was carefully controlled. No doubt he was hoping that Puck hadn't heard his conversation. Puck shut the fridge, and moved to the cupboard.

"You were plotting the destruction of the Glee club we've worked so hard for?" Puck asked, in the same tone. Ahaha! He had to hide his elation as he pulled a packet of cheesy puffs from the cupboard.

"Shit."

"Yup."

Puck rose to stand and looked at Jesse properly for the first time. The older boy had paled visibly, but Puck didn't care. He was angry. God was he angry! The Gleeks had enough opposition in the form of Sue Sylvester and every twit who decided that they were better than them, outside the club. Ignoring the clueless sweetie Brittany and conniving but reportedly apologetic Santana – Puck was sure they didn't need to be destroyed from the inside out as well. And Quinn wouldn't let him leave, and he needed Quinn to be happy for himself.

"I can explain," Jesse stated.

"Can you really?" Puck turned, pulling the crisp packet open. "See, I don't think you have to. As far as I can tell, you plan to break Rachel's heart and simultaneously drop out of Glee when we need you most." He took a step forwards. "Is that it? Roughly?"

"Exactly." Jesse could do nothing but guardedly watch as Puck threw a crisp in his mouth.

"Well you're lucky… I don't care whether we win or lose," Puck said, mouth full.

"Then why're you in Glee?" Jesse didn't know where he stood. He had very little to do with Noah Puckerman.

Puck was casually searching through for a particular crisp, and replied, "Sex. I wanted to get my leg over your girlfriend. Oh don't look surprised. I get around. I got around. Not so much any more."

"She never said."

"Why would she? Have you listed all the people you've been with?"

"No. But she doesn't know them."

"Well then! Cheesy puff?"

Taken by surprise by the younger boy offering him the packet, Jesse shook his head. "No thanks. Are you going to tell her?"

Puck was thoughtfully quiet for a moment. "That depends on you doesn't it." His hand dove back into the packet. "You want me to keep quiet… But what do I want?" He didn't seem to have an answer.

Jesse gave a nervous chuckle. "So far just sex."

"That's true."

"What?" Jesse's eyes widened, astonished.

Jumping up to sit on the sideboard, Puck tapped his fingers on the side. "Well… I'm not getting any. Quinn won't let me got to anyone else and she's knocked up. And that's just not cool." He was thinking out loud, but Jesse was listening raptly, more out of fear than anything else. "And I'm a guy. It's not fun by myself. Well… it's some fun." His tipped his head back and poured the remains of the crisps down his throat. When he emerged, munching, Jesse took advantage of his silence.

"Are you trying to imply what I think you are?"

"Mmm," said Puck, his mouth stuffed full but nodding.

"Prostitution? Blackmail?"

"Mmm." Puck swallowed heavily. "Summat like that."

Jesse's jaw fell open. "You can't do that."

"What I can't do is ignore what I overheard. I've tried but it hasn't happened. So I'll let you do what you want, if you do what I want."

"What? You want me to… to suck you off… 'Be your bitch'."

"Well yes. What are you doing at the moment?"

"Nothing."

"Great," Puck grinned. "I also have a free period. And there's no one in study hall. So… ah… on your knees."

Ignoring the awkwardness, and the sight of Puck's hands playing on the zip of his trousers, Jesse exclaimed, "No!"

"Oh." Puck's hands stilled. "I guess I'll go tell Rachel then."

"She won't believe you."

"I actually think she might. And if not, the rest of the club will." Puck flexed his fingers, threateningly. "I have that power." He leant forwards." And now, I have it over you."

Attempting to brush the threat way, and more than somewhat irritated by it, Jesse pointed out, "You have cheese powder on your cheek."

One of Puck's eyebrows quirked. "You'd better get rid of it then."

Jesse could see that he was not winning with his exclamations, and lifted a hand to brush it away. It was caught in Puck's hand before he could touch his cheek.

"Nuhuh Mr James."

"Mr St James," pedantically corrected James.

"Mr James…" repeated Puck. "No hands. Your hands should be busy elsewhere. Your tongue can go to work on that."

There was no way out that Jesse could see and reluctantly, humiliated, he slipped off the desk and delicately lapped Puck's cheek. "Lazy hands…" commented Puck. Jesse screwed up his eyes as his hands went down to unzip and unbutton the younger boy's trousers. "Better." Puck turned towards Jesse, whose eyes were still closed, and pressed his lips to his, claiming them furiously.

Jesse tried to resist, pressing his lips tight closed, but Puck's tongue was demanding. Harsh hands pulled at the back of Jesse's head and he was forced to part his lips under Puck's assault.

When the younger boy broke away, his eyes darkened with lust, Puck snarled, "Knees. Now."

That was the first time that Jesse was forced to sell himself to Puck His pride was ground into the floor, and from then on he belonged to Puck. What was worse than the absolute possession, was the very, very small part of Jesse that, when cleaning himself up, found he'd enjoyed himself. Just a little.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Throughout the final Madonna number – unfortunate; Vocal Adrenaline had taken the 2007 Nationals with Cherish – Jesse had been able to feel the Latino girl's eyes on the back of his head. And his face. And his groin. He couldn't remember her name. Now, her best friend – the blonde one – had cornered him. Immediately after a performance, Jesse was pumped; he wanted a girl or a guy… But Rachel had run off to her piano lesson, leaving Jesse frustrated. The sight of the childlike Brittany was just a delay.

"I saw Santana watching you," she stated.

That was her name… Santana. Jesse leant back against the locker and replied, "What's she to you?"

Brittany cocked her head to the side, like a curious puppy. "My best friend."

"Is this a warning? Because I don't know if you've noticed… But I'm with Rachel." He was hardly willing to mention the liaison in the home economics room with Puck. He had hoped that it had just been a bad dream, but the ache in his jaw that evening proved otherwise. God it had to be easier to be a lesbian.

"No, I like what Santana likes," Brittany said, by way of explanation. "And Santana likes herself and she likes you. So I like her. And you." She reached out for his shirt – double denim. Not his idea – and fiddled with the collar. "I'm not allowed to have opinions since I suggested we dress as fish and sing all the Little Mermaid songs."

"For fun?" Jesse asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, for Sectionals."

Jesse didn't know whether to laugh at her innocence or be cynical of her excess of it. "Sorry, Brittany. I'm with Rachel." When he said it aloud, it became repulsively truer.

She shrugged. "So was Finn. That didn't stop him."

"Well, I'm not Finn." He peeled her hand away from his collar. Were he Finn, he wouldn't be this attractive…

"Brit?"

At the voice, Brittany immediately perked up. Her disappointment at being rejected by Jesse vanished in an instant, as if she'd just been offered a new, and far more interesting, sweet. "Santana!" She skipped towards her friend, allowing Jesse to move away from the lockers he stood against.

"Hey." Santana quickly approached and planted a chaste kiss to her friend's cheek. Then her eyes flicked up and down Jesse's form. "Hey Jesse." Jesse shivered at the hungry, dark eyes ranging over his skin. "Whatcha doing?"

"Nothing." Nice one, St. James. Genius. Though true.

"Nice watch," Santana commented, her eyes on the thick strap around Jesse's wrist.

"You know what they say about men with big watches." The euphemism slipped from Jesse's mouth before he had time to control it.

Santana was chuckling, but Brittany stated, "They can tell the time… Even if they've got really long arms." She turned to Santana in excitement. "Maybe I should get a really big watch! Then I could tell the time!"

Santana's comforting hand found Brittany's shoulder. "It doesn't work like that."

"Oh." The disappointment was visible on Brittany's face.

The darker haired girl's attention snapped back to Jesse. "Can I see? The watch?"

Reluctantly, with the odd feeling that he was falling into a trap, Jesse acquiesced, holding out his arm for her examination. She held his arm in a cool hand, and with the other she traced a finger down the inside of his arm, slowly, with feather light pressure. "I have a thing for forearms." She toyed with the edge of the watch. "And wrists."

Jesse couldn't pretend that the husky voice she used to inform him of this wasn't distinctly arousing. He was post-performance… and only the adolescent boy after all. The hungry look in her eyes made her appear predatory… cat-like. But Rachel! Coach Corcoran would never forgive him if he fucked this up. Yet he was growing distinctly uncomfortable.

He thought he was saved when he heard footsteps, but when he looked down the corridor, it was Puck striding towards him.

The mohawked boy raised an eyebrow. "What party haven't I been invited to?"

"Erm…" Brittany looked thoughtful for a moment, an expression which Jesse rarely saw there. "Kurt's. But he told me not to tell you."

"I meant this one… But Kurt? What've I ever done to him?" Puck demanded.

Cynically, Santana laughed. "Erm what haven't you done to him?"

Puck smirked smugly. "I've done more to others I could name, haven't I Jesse?"

"Shut up!" Jesse could feel his face flushing. He didn't normally blush so easily.

"What's this?" Santana enquired.

"Nothing babe. Just a joke," deferred Puck, waving a lazy hand though his eyes were fixed, laserlike upon Jesse's. "I'll meet you in a bit: I have to talk to Jesse about something."

Santana laid a possessive hand upon Puck's muscular forearm. "This better not be about Rachel."

With an easy laugh, Puck assured her, "It's not. Promise." He wrinkled his nose in something akin to disgust.

"Alright. Later. Bike sheds?"

"Car park. Real men drive," Puck said.

"Brittany, are you coming?" Santana asked, glancing over her shoulder as she made to leave. The blonde was glancing around the room, as if searching for something.

"I think I just saw a pixie fly by," Brittany told her.

Santana's gaze flickered towards Jesse. "A fairy maybe. Come on, we need to find your Spanish books. Did you try looking in the guys' bathrooms?" Her voice trailed out of hearing as she walked, and Jesse was left alone with Puck.

000

To his credit, Puck waited until the fire doors had closed on the backs of Santana and Brittany, though perhaps Jesse was being overly generous; the younger boy may just have been watching their retreating buttocks. Then his hand slammed into Jesse's shoulder and he was driven back into the lockers. A dial stuck into his back, as Puck growled, "Hands off, Santana."

"I didn't touch her!"

"She touched you then. Whatever. But hands off. She's mine," Puck stated.

Jesse raised a cynical eyebrow. It was all he could do to argue, for all he could think about was what Puck held over him. Physical revolt would not avail him. "Why then did I see her ticking off the list of guys she'd made out with, trying to keep up with the blonde?"

"Kissing, sex, boys, girls, I don't care; she's welcome to them," Puck furiously stated. "But she likes you. And I won't have her liking anyone but me."

"'Cos you're all kisses and cuddles. Hypocrite," Jesse ground out.

"Shut up!"

"What are you going to do about it?" Jesse regretted his words the moment his lips had formed them.

Puck's hand gripped his shirt tight, pulling him close. "Don't challenge me, James."

"St. James," Jesse tersely corrected him, once more. "My name is Jesse St. James."

"Your name is whatever I want it to be," Puck replied. "It could be 'bitch' – you're lucky." Jesse honestly didn't know if that would degrade him further: For many years, he had been teased for having what some perceived as a "girl's name". However, it was a good, solid performer's name and one day it would be in lights. But Puck was still talking. "And I want you to call me Puck... for now. So yeah you are in luck."

"What kind of name is "Puck" anyway? I don't see you being an admirer of the great Bard. Even if your relationships are as messed up as any of the plays featuring Venetians."

"What?" Jesse enjoyed using a wider vocabulary than the letterman-wearing jock would understand and let the smugness show on his face. "Well I wasn't going to wander around with a name like Noah Puckerman."

At that, Jesse was unable to restrain a snort. "If you have a name like Noah Puckerman why would you change it? What a great name. No stage names for you."

"Oh shut up," Puck demanded. He looked utterly bored at the conversation. "Get over here." Jesse was dragged through the chaotic area backstage, in the dark, and almost stumbled over a ladder hidden behind a curtain by a stage hand following director's orders with sarcastic obedience. He was dragged by the collar through a door and when Puck snapped it closed behind them, he was plunged into absolute darkness.

"Puck…" He fought his slight concern from his voice. "What..?"

There was a fumbling in the darkness, and when light sputtered on, it was to reveal rows upon rows of clothes.

"The costume department of William McKinley," Puck announced with mock grandeur. It smelt like mothballs. "I once nicked a leather jacket from here. They had a few… left over from the production of Grease."

"And they just let you wander in do they?" asked Jesse, somewhat astonished. That sort of thing would never happen at Carmel High.

"Not many people come down here; nerds who enjoy wires, buttons and slides far too much and the occasional art student looking for period clothing for their photoshoots." Puck shrugged. "You just have to hope they don't come looking today." Puck glanced around lazily and instructed, "Pick a dress."

Jesse had dared to hope that perhaps Puck had just brought him here because it was out of the way and they would not get interrupted in... whatever Puck had wanted. But apparently not. Damn. Well it wouldn't be the first time. He glanced around the room at the haphazard hangers, and the materials which drooped sadly from them. He decided upon the nearest dress; long, cream with a dastardly rose patterned print which looked like it had been made from someone's curtains. To match their wallpaper. But it was long and wide, and would cover all but his ankles and that would do.

"Show me," Puck instructed. He had found a seat upon an upturned washing basket. When he saw what Jesse held he snorted in disgust. "Please. No. I said dress, not drape. Head into the 60s. Something shorter." He shook his head: he'd thought at least the older boy would have some taste. There was no way that he was straight. But Puck knew that stereotypes didn't always win out; he himself was a prime example. He'd known he'd liked men ever since he saw his first football game. That didn't mean he didn't like women as well. A lot. But he didn't like Liza Minnelli either.

His attention returned to Jesse wandering through the aisles. "Any time now James."

000

Jesse had attempted to hide behind racks of clothing as he changed, which Puck found hilarious. Because Puck had plans and Jesse had to be naked for them. Though maybe not today. Today was all about the clothes.

"Well?" Jesse demanded; he had been standing in front of a pensive Puck's scrutiny for long minutes and there had been no response.

Puck stood from where he had been languishing, and walked slowly around Jesse. His hands smoothed the soft cotton down Jesse's back, feeling the texture of the florally patterned fabric, and the warmth emanating from the humorously nervous older boy. To make him sweat just a little more, Puck made another calculating circle before stating. "You're not quite done." His hand snaked down and squeezed one of Jesse's buttcheeks, and was amused to hear a surprised yelp. The sun dress just covered Jesse's upper thighs. "But the dress'll do."

"What else do you want form me?" What he had intended to be a demand emerged as something of a whine.

"Sit down. Close your eyes. Part your lips a little," Puck instructed, and headed towards the doorway.

000

He was vulnerable like this. Completely at Puck's mercy, and no doubt expecting the worst. But Puck would hold off. Just for a little while.

"I told you to open your mouth," Puck reminded the seated boy. "And keep those eyes shut."

With the first touch of the lipstick on his lips, Jesse started. However, he did not complain; he had been expecting a cock. When Puck was done smoothing on the colour, Jesse asked, "Is that… lipstick?"

Puck growled, "Don't talk; you'll get it on your teeth and I'll be forced to lick it off."

Next, Puck ran a soft brush over Jesse's eyelids, dispersing powder of a deep blue. Beneath the delicate protective layer of the eyelid, Jesse's eyes flickered nervously.

"There we go. You can open your eyes." Jesse obeyed and for the first time at him, Puck gave a smile which was not condescending, nor twisted… but almost genuine. "You have nice eyes. No wonder Rachel fell for you."

"I've got the intensely smouldering look down," Jesse professed.

"You're not unattractive," Puck deigned to admit. "If you were, I would have told the Glee Club about you already. Now –" He glanced down at the remaining powders and liquids in his lap. "-Put these on. If I do it, I'll stab you. And we wouldn't want those pretty eyes ruined, would we?"

000

Mascared, eyelinered and with a rosy glow to his cheeks, Jesse rose from where he knelt in front of a mirror, and turned to Puck, praying that the younger boy would not ask him where he had learnt to do make up so neatly. But he did not. Instead, Puck strode forwards and kissed him hard.

Taken by surprise, Jesse still responded with fervour; he had been waiting for it, and he was sure that Puck did not want him to completely submit, but to respond with fire, the kind of fire Santana probably gave him. When Puck broke away, it was to hastily mutter against the older boy's lips, "You make a hot girl. The dress suits you."

"I'll pretend that's a compliment shall I?" Jesse asked. He smirked at the red stain his lipstick had left on Puck's lips, but as Puck decided to turn his attentions to his neck, his humour vanished. "Don't. Puck don't!" He lurched away from the hot contact, eyes wide. "I do what you want, and you don't let the other gleeks find out what I'm doing. If you mark me, Rachel will get suspicious."

"Not my problem," Puck stated, but then shrugged, "Fine." He drew away and Jesse gave a huff of relief, glad for the distance. Rachel refused his more intimate advances, and Puck wasn't the only one with needs. Even feeling ridiculous in a dress, blood racing around his body at a faster pace when Puck was touching him, kissing him. When he wasn't, he had to cool again.

But Puck didn't seem to be done, though he took a seat. "Come here," he ordered, and Jesse cautiously manoeuvred to take a seat on his lap. Puck stopped him before he could sit. "No. Over my lap."

It took long moments before, reluctantly, Jesse draped himself over the younger boy's arse, raised and vulnerable, and he understood what Puck was going to do. He was not stupid, and well aware of these kind of activities, so perhaps it was just self-preservation which kept the thoughts from his mind. He presumed so. And would rather distract his thoughts with why he wasn't more aware of the situation than the act itself.

Rough hands, fingers calloused by pool chemicals and by guitar strings, tugged the floaty skirt of the summer dress above his hips, and dragged his underwear down, revealing his buttcheeks for all the world to see. In resignation, as the hands massaged his backside, Jesse closed his eyes.

Smack!

It was not as bad as Jesse had expected it might be, though it stung. It was the sort of spank you'd give a badly behaved puppy; loud rather than hard.

When Puck's next slap landed, that changed. The hand rained down again and again, both sides getting the same cruel treatment, until the stinging became a burning. When one in particularly hurt so badly that Jesse hissed, Puck began to explain, his words punctuated by smacks.

"You brought this on yourself. You don't want – to be marked where Rach-el would see – so I'm going to give it – to you this time. – But you don't – speak – out – against – me!"

Jesse could not restrain a soft whimper as pain sprang up again and again, searing through him and yet coupled with a strange pleasure which rushed the short way to his groin. Puck's words and smacks sent a little masochist within Jesse's stomach – which he had not realised he possessed – wild. There was no doubt in Jesse's mind that Puck knew, was feeling him harden and thicken, but was ignoring it. Just as Jesse was ignoring the hardness against his chest which jerked in interest each time he gave a voice to his pain. Seemed that Puck had a little bit of a sadist to accompany his penchant for control, Jesse observed. Perhaps if he voiced the pain he felt, Puck would take more of an interest in their joint predicament.

The next times Puck's hand smacked down, catching the tender underside of Jesse's thigh this time, Jesse gave small cries. The mohawked boy was somewhat more breathy when he growled, "I'm the one – in charge – here. You do – as – I say. Stop that!"

Reluctantly, Jesse paused. He had taken the opportunity of Puck's renewed speech to attempt to rub up against Puck's denim clad legs, trying to find some sort of friction to relieve the aching in his groin. But Puck's hands grabbed his waist and dragged him down and away.

"That means I get to say when you come too, Mr James."

"Please?" Jesse's voice came out a small croak.

"You'll have to beg harder than that to make this end," Puck claimed, and brought his hand down again. Soon enough, Puck had his wish.

Tears in his grey-blue eyes, threatening to spill out and smudge his make up, Jesse was crying out with each slap. He'd been told off before for being too loud a lover, and this time he absolutely had provocation. His arse burned white hot with each slap and his cock was aching for attention. "Enough!" He finally gasped out. "Please Puck; I'm not…. Please Puck. I'm sorry. Please."

"Come here," Puck growled out, pulled at Jesse, dragging him upwards and into a scorching kiss which echoed Jesse's lust; the younger boy needed a release as much as him. It stung to spread his legs as he did, but Jesse rapidly straddled Puck, grasping at him everywhere.

"Fuck!" Jesse could not help but gasp as Puck grasped him, through the fabric of the dress, fondling, cupping him.

"I'll take you up on that offer," Puck said, displaying his feral smirk which sent shivers down Jesse's already tingling spine. The older boy's hands were on Puck's jeans, without permission, but Puck was beyond the point of caring.

They were desperately rubbing up against each other, when there was the sound of the door opening. Jesse repeated his curse. The door was behind him, and he buried his head into the crook of Puck's neck, dreading facing whoever had found them. His ragged breathing was harsh in Puck's ear, fear, exertion and arousal joining.

Lazily, Puck's hand slid down Jesse's strong legs – legs of a dancer – and he sounded completely relaxed as he said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Ryerson."

"Mr Puckerman! The drama cupboard is not a suitable place for your trysts. Take your ladyfriend and go!" The drama teacher exclaimed.

"Jesse," Puck turned to him, knowing full well that Sandy could only see the dress. "Say hello to Mr. Ryerson."

Reluctantly, Jesse obeyed, and it took a moment for the teacher to realise who was looking at him. Disapproval turned to astonishment, which rapidly transformed into a sickening understanding. "Oh boys. This is different. I understand, I understand what it's like to be different, to have to hide away what you are. To be in the closet, and wear a hundred disguises." He turned towards the door and murmured, "Just clear up when you're done, and don't let me catch you again."

When the door closed, Jesse could only ask, "Wha?"

"Sandy Ryerson. Kicked out of school for fondling an underage student – male student, brought back in to torment Schue, teaches drama, sells weed. Loves cats, to an unhealthy degree," Puck explained rapidly. "Now where were we?"

000

The next day, Puck caught up with Tina in the hallway. She gave a small squeak of surprise when he tapped her on the shoulder, still not used to the biggest bully in the school being amicable to her.

"Hey." Puck pushed the bag of cosmetics towards her. "Thanks for those."

"No… no problem." She took them back and asked, "Were they useful?"

"Very." Puck had a catlike satisfied grin upon his face as he nodded to her and disappeared into the swell of the student body.


End file.
